Simply, a Memory
by Bookwormy Angel
Summary: Amy Pond stumbles upon Rose Tyler's old bedroom. Short oneshot. Implied 11xRose. First Who fic.


**AN**: A few notes- I'm bad at writing accents, so read Amy's as Scottish. This is also my first Who fic, so be nice, please!

_~Bookwormy _

* * *

After a regeneration and more years than he'd care to count, the Doctor still fondly remembers Rose Tyler.

The Valiant Child. The Defender of the Earth. Bad Wolf. Across the galaxies she's remembered as these things, but to the Doctor she would always be his Rose.

He tries to move on, taking on wonderful Martha Jones but losing Rose was still fresh wound. Marvelous Donna Noble, the most important woman in creation, springs a life into him he thought lost after Rose.

And then he regenerated.

Amelia Pond was the first face he saw with his eleventh face. And after traveling with several other companions and changing his face, the Doctor keeps the memories of Rose Tyler tucked securely into the back of his mind.

They travel galaxies together, with her husband Rory, of course, and everything was fine. Perfectly normal, in standards of traveling with the Doctor.

Until Amy gets curious about his past. In particular, his previous companions.

The Doctor never talks about them, (or his other lives, but Amy doesn't know about them) only in snippets and confusing little sentences, before springing off into another topic.

After a particularly aggravating conversation where Amy has none of her questions answered and he can't take it, the Doctor leaves the console room, off to who knows where while Amy silently (at least as silently as Amelia Pond can be) fumes to herself. She's pacing, smoke almost visible streaming through her ears, and she's throwing her arms around, in the air and then crossing them before throwing them out again.

"What does he have to hide?" she yells to no one, Scottish accent thick with anger. As if forgetting the TARDIS is a sentient ship, she takes a shocked step back when the lights dim and brighten again only to revel that the hallway that usually leads to the infirmary has changed.

Spinning in a circle, Amy takes inventory of the TARDIS's interior. Theres still a hallway leading to the kitchens, one to their rooms and the strange new one that replaced the infirmary.

Intrigued, Amy makes her way to the swirling staircase and peers inside the mysterious hallway.

It's dim, and the lights are a pale yellow, rather than a bright sun-like yellow and the walls are a pale gray, the light bouncing off of them.

And the hallway is entirely composed of doors.

Taking a few steps forward, Amy runs her fingers over the well worn doors, each inscribed with circular writing that she can only assume is Gallifreyan because it isn't translated by the TARDIS. All of them are simple, one or two colors with a different door handle. Turning her head as she passes each door, she notices a vibrant red door and reaches out, grasping the long handle and pushing down. The door doesn't budge and the TARDIS hums.

"Sorry," Amy says, taking her hand away from the door and turning away from it.

At the very end of the hall, where the lights flicker and the walls are a deeper gray because of it, there's a light pink door.

And it's ajar.

Stepping up to it, the TARDIS hums loudly, and that nudges Amy towards it.

Placing her hand on the wood, she feels the cool surface and feels the difference from the rough wood and soft white Gallifreyan. Laying against it softly, she turns her head to peek inside.

The walls are a pink to match the door, white curtains lining two windows that have probably seen more worlds than Amy herself. Underneath them sits a desk with several framed photos, papers scattered about, a few books and a lone computer. Beside the door is a dresser, pictures and things of make-up on top, and a few stray hair ties, along with a solid layer of dust. Across from the door, the full sized bed was unmade, pink covers thrown over pink and white stripped sheets, the two pillows shoved to the side. The nightstand has two pictures, a book and a tube of mascara. To the left of the desk, the en suite is slightly open, showing an assortment of bottles and cases. The closet is open, showing Amy a small portion of woman's clothing and shoes, mostly woman's sneakers and boots, but also a mens pair of converse, are scattered across the pale carpet.

Just as she's about to step inside, the Doctor's voice rings through the hall, "Amy!"

Whipping around, she leaves the doorway and makes her way quickly to the console room, the pale pink almost entirely shoved out of her mind.

Almost.

As the months go on, Amy slowly loses interest in the pink door.

That is, until the Doctor indirectly brings it up.

They're walking along a cobblestone road in a planet remarkably like Earth, but not, when the Doctor suddenly stops.

"What is it?" Amy asks, standing on her tip toes to peer around him because the road is narrow.

He answers without looking at her or away from the slight dirty blonde woman down the way. "Nothing," he says, almost a whisper. Looking from her Doctor she notices the girl, bending down to pick up a flower. As she looks at it, she tucks her hair behind her ear, the light brown and blonde swirling in the breeze. Her scarf flutters in the breeze and she stands straight, twirling the flower between her fingers. She turns her head, and smiles at the Doctor, Amy and Rory, her brown eyes crinkling a the edges and her white teeth shinning before she spins away and continues on her way.

"She's pretty," Amy fishes, eyeing the Doctor's reaction. He was still looking at the small flower bush.

He nodded but didn't say anything.

"Did you know her?" Rory buts in, tone genuinely curious.

The Doctor looks at him from the corner of his eyes. "Not her. But someone like her."

And with that, the Doctor leads them away.

Amy and Rory exchange looks, Rory shrugs and follows the Doctor but Amy lags, her thoughts drifting back to the pink door.

When they return to the TARDIS, the Doctor heads off somewhere, and Rory goes back to their room, leaving Amy alone in the console room.

"Can you…show me that room again?" she asks awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. Without a sound, the hallway changes again and Amy follows it again to the very end of the hall.

The door is wide open.

Without stopping, Amy walks in, the carpet soft and fluffy underneath her feet.

The first things that capture her attention are on top of the dresser. There are three photos, each framed and angled. The first, near the door, has a blonde girl with dark brown roots and a smile to rival any other. A multi-color scarf is wrapped around her neck and a tall, lean man in a leather jacket has his arm wrapped around her shoulders, a large smile on his face. The picture in the middle was of the girl; a simple shot that must've been taken when she wasn't looking. Her hair was braided and tumbled over her shoulders, a few loose strands escaping. Her eyes were closed, the edges crinkled as she laughed. The third was, again, of the leather clad man, though this time they were sitting in a booth, eating chips, each of them highlighted by the dying sun in the back.

Everything was covered in a layer of dust, dimming the color of the pictures.

Slowly making her way around the room, she stops at the closet, where she sees an array of clothes, including dresses and shirts and jackets. In the back, behind all of the colorful clothes hangs a large leather jacket, much too big for the girl in the pictures.

Pushing the door of the en suite open, Amy sees the assortment of soaps, lotions and sprays lining the sink along with several different types of lip glosses and mascaras.

Exiting the en suite, Amy notices a long tan jacket thrown over the base of the bed and a pair of jim-jams peeking out from underneath it.

On top of the desk there are many papers, most of which Amy doesn't try to read because theres almost an equal mix of Gallifreyan and english. There are three more pictures on the desk. One is of the girl when she was maybe 16 or 17, sitting with someone who must have been her mother. Beside it was a picture of the same girl with the long coat from the base of the bed and some really great hair. He was tall and really tiny, but his hand was wrapped around he girls waist, his hand spread over her hip. The final one on the desk had the same girl with her mother and dark skinned boy sitting around a table. None of them were paying attention to the camera as they all laughed and pointed at the boy across from the blonde girl.

Looping back around the bed, Amy finally gets a look at the photo on the nightstand. It's the man in the long tan jacket and the girl. Her hair is down, cascading pas her shoulders in blonde waves and the man has on arm wrapped around her, while the other is shoved in a pocket. The photo was taken from behind them, and the sun is high in the sky, illuminating a city that resembles New York and giving each of them an ethereal glow.

With some answers, Amy left the room with more questions that she knew the Doctor wouldn't answer.

As the weeks past, Amy didn't forget the pink door. She wanted to know who that blonde girl with the hazel eyes a bright smile and wild hair_ was_. She wanted to know what she _meant_ to the Doctor.

As time wore on, Amy noticed the Doctor spending more and more time away from the console room. She knew he wasn't in the library rereading Harry Potter or watching a movie from the fiftieth century or in his workshop trying to "improve" his sonic or the pool perfecting his cannon ball.

Amy Pond was a curious person by nature, so obviously when something nags at her as much as this, she's going to get antsy.

After trying to not but into the Doctor's life, she finally looses it and follows him after an _accidental_ (he stresses that point) trip to "New New Earth".

Following someone in the TARDIS is complicated, especially when that someone is the Doctor. Amy tries to keep up, staying at least half a hallway behind, but the Doctor is walking fast and she wants to see where he's going. Before long, Amy begins to think that those doors and that hallway looks just like the one she passed through five hallways ago. It isn't until the Doctor stops outside that gray hallway Amy's seen exactly twice before pulling out a key and unlocking the pink door. He cracks it and Amy sneaks up.

Inside, the Doctor takes off his tweed jacket and throws it on the back of the desk chair and loosens his bow tie before tossing it on top of the tan jacket from weeks ago.

Amy notices the subtle changes of the room from the last time she'd been there. The Doctors things have slowly taken up residence. There are bow ties around the room, futuristic books he probably pulled from the library, the en suite (from what she can see) is organized, the lotion and spray bottles mixed with what Amy can only assume as the Doctor's stuff. The desk was organized, but still cluttered and the Doctor's boots were neatly placed at the base of the bed, the tan jacket almost covering them.

This wasn't his room, Amy knew that, but she could tell he was beginning to spend more and more time here.

"I know you're there, Amy," he said, not turning around.

Opening the door wider and stepping inside Amy stared at the room. "Who was she?"

He doesn't answer right away. It takes a few minutes before his head tilts. "Her name was Rose. Rose Tyler."


End file.
